


I Want Something so Impure

by SilentFrenzy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark!Jon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Post-Season/Series 06, R Plus L Equals J, Resolved Sexual Tension, Songfic, dominant!Jon, maybe idk i've seen people use that tag generously, more like dominant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFrenzy/pseuds/SilentFrenzy
Summary: “You have caused this, you and your queen. You allowed her to speak to me that way, allowed her to order my obedience in my own home as if I’m to be her new dog to train. I am the Lady of Winterfell, and your inbred aunt has no right to-”“Aye, you are the Lady of Winterfell,” he growled, his eyes flashing with an added flame of fury at the mention of the woman’s newly found relations to him. “The same Lady of Winterfell who not too long ago advised me to be smart, yet it seems that you can’t follow your own advice.”“Be smart,” she repeated, filling her face with a look of mocking humor. “By kneeling? By allowing her to seize my title and command my people? Perhaps I should offer her these chambers as well. Better, I’ll just offer them to you again, seeing as I’m sure you’ll be sharing a bed. Shall I fuck her as well? As I want to be just as smart as you, Jon.”-Not Afraid Anymore - Halsey





	I Want Something so Impure

Sansa jumped at the sound of Jon’s voice nearly shouting her name at the door when she hadn’t opened it after multiple of his more polite attempts. His tone was commanding now, out of patience after she had ignored him one too many times. She didn’t care.

_**i am not afraid anymore** _

She stood up quickly when he finally forced his way in, her footing thrown off in her disbelief at the audacity of his actions, outraged he had the nerve to  _break_  into her chambers. The door slammed and she stumbled again as she retreated backwards, her arm behind her and reaching to feel for the wall so she wouldn’t smack into it as he stalked towards her. Her palm met the chilled stone just as he was closing in on her, but she still suffered a small impact in her hurry. She gasped as her body hit the wall, glaring hatefully at him in accusation as a dull ache that spread through her shoulders and head protested at her.

“You don’t  _listen_ ,” he hissed at her, shaking his head while he searched her eyes in anger and frustration.

She looked away from his face, avoiding the intimidating intensity of his gaze. She flattened her hands against the wall and pressed herself back even more firmly against it. He was already intimidating her enough as it was with his closeness, she didn’t need to see his eyes and further the effect. Her body had only slightly leaned to the side in her intent to slip around him before he had his hands braced against the wall on both sides of her, trapping her. He had never lost his temper towards her like this.

_**standing in the eye of the storm** _

“Let me  _go_ , Jon,” she ordered him forcefully, her words coming out in an odd tone of voice as she looked back to his eyes in bewilderment. “Y-You.. What  _is this_? Who are you?”

He shook his head, looking up at the ceiling before he closed his eyes, letting out a huff of a breath. “Why must you make this so difficult, Sansa? I’ve enough anxieties to handle. You needn’t add to them.”

She stared at him in disbelief, her throat clenching around the building pressure caused by the hurt that spilled into her chest just as wine tipped into a cup. “I needn’t-” She broke off, inhaling quickly to recover from the thickness that had spread through her throat, the threatening tears that had started to cloak her voice, before grinding out her response with more contempt. “ _You_  have caused this, you and your  _queen_. You allowed her to speak to me that way, allowed her to order my obedience in my own home as if I’m to be her new dog to train. I am the Lady of Winterfell, and  _your inbred aunt_  has no right to-”

“Aye, you are the Lady of Winterfell,” he growled, his eyes flashing with an added flame of fury at the mention of the woman’s newly found relations to him. “The same Lady of Winterfell who not too long ago advised me to be smart, yet it seems that you can’t follow your own advice.”

“Be smart,” she repeated, filling her face with a look of mocking humor. “By kneeling? By allowing her to seize my title and command my people? Perhaps I should offer her these chambers as well. Better, I’ll just offer them to  _you_  again, seeing as I’m sure you’ll be sharing a bed. Shall I fuck her as well? As I want to be just as  _smart_  as you, Jon.”

_**ready to face this** _

He blinked, his face falling into shock at her use of such a word. She tried to hide her own shock towards herself as well, hoping her cheeks didn’t visibly display her embarrassment over her boldness and out of character use of an obscenity. His expression recovered and he scoffed quietly, his lips twitching upwards as his eyes fell cold. “You assume quickly with little-”

“I don’t assume,” she spat, her eyes narrowing after she witnessed him avert his gaze when he began speaking the words, confirming her  _assumption_. “I  _know_. I could smell you on her the moment she was near enough to set her disgustingly arrogant attentions on me. A true Targaryen you are, aren’t-”

“Enough, Sansa,” he told her, dropping his hands down to grasp her arms. “Enough sharp words. There are much larger threats to face than each other, and I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

“Are you speaking in jest,  _your grace_? Or have you just gone mad as the blood you’ve inherited wills?”

_**dying to taste this** _

“Don’t,” he replied, his expression dulling as he gave her a flat look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Isn’t that what you are?” Her words were soft as she laughed lightly without humor and her eyes fell to the floor. How could he possibly claim that he didn’t want to hurt her? “A king to your new queen?”

“Please, Sansa,” he said, a pleading lilt adding to his harsh tone. “Please understand me. Please understand that I have to do what I have to do. How are you not understanding? I thought you more intelligent than this.”

“Yes, because allowing me to be humiliated by a foreign tyrant in my own home and shoving me against the stones of our -  _my_  parents’ wall wasn’t enough, you choose to honor me further by bringing my intelligence into question. You  _must_  keep insulting me more! What other cruelties do I deserve, your grace?”

“I did not  _shove you_  against the wall,” he told her, his features screwing together in offense, his nose twitching. “You threw  _yourself_  at it.”

She took her now numb hands away from the wall to push them against Jon’s chest, shoving at him hard. He  _allowed_  her to move him back a few steps and she was reminded of her lack of strength. Her eyes narrowed when his hands wrapped around hers to hold them in place, his thumbs immediately rubbing warmth into them when realizing how cold they were.

_**sick sweet warmth** _

Her anger for him quickly started to slip at the way he touched her and she grit her teeth, weakly trying to pull her hands away. “I wonder what father would think of you for allowing your sister to be ordered about by an outsider,  _threatened_ by-”

“You’re not my sister, and I only want you to  _appease_  her while - I thought this is what  _you_ advised me to do when you told-” Jon broke off, his hands going still in hers.

The air chilled the fresh tears that clung to her lashes and ran down her cheeks as soon as they began to spill from her eyes, rewarming the streams again and again as each set fell. She couldn’t see him anymore. She blindly watched his chest that had been completely blurred in her watery vision in silence. She felt as though he had reached into her ribcage and broke a piece off, reached into her and broke  _something_  inside of her, thieving it as he verbally disowned himself from her.

_“You’re not my sister.”_

She deserved it, she supposed. She had rejected him so many times as a child, had seen the hurt written on his face at each instance of dismissal, and that had been when they were  _real_  siblings. He deserved his revenge. She looked down from his chest, ducking her face away from him as she tried to look for an exit route in her near blindness. He had claimed to have forgiven her.

Clearly, that had been a lie.

Two of his fingers pressed against the underside of her chin to direct her face back to his as he moved again to be closer to her.

“Sansa, I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t want to appease her, Jon,” she choked out as she interrupted his remorseful tone, clearing her throat to rid it of her wounded emotions as she tried to latch onto his implication that he was only manipulating the Targaryen woman, tried to latch onto her previous beliefs that she could trust any claims from the  _honorable_ Jon Snow. “I-I  _did_ want you to play this wisely, but I am  _not_  willing to fall to my knees,  _grovel_ before her and allow her to renounce my rightful place. I have been that girl. I have lost the right to call myself a Stark before. I fell to my knees and begged before the king before he stripped me in front of the courts and beat me. Still, I called him my king and claimed to love him. I stared at father’s severed head until I had  _appeased_  the king enough to look away. Still, I called him my king and claimed to love him. I called father and Robb traitors to save myself. I married a Lannister. Joffrey even wanted to have Robb’s head served to me at his wedding feast. Do you know what I would have done if he had?  _Still_ , I would have called him my king and claimed to love him,  _still_  would have degraded my house. Over the beatings, over the berating,  _nothing_  hurt as much as knowing of what I did to my family, what I continued to do to my family as they continued to die just so I would live. I  _will not_  become that girl again. I  _will not_  disappoint my family any more than I already have. I  _will not_  let them down again by submitting to that Targaryen tyrant and drop to the ground to swear my loyalty to her,  _Stark_  loyalty.  _Especially_ not right under my parents’ roof, on  _Stark_  land, on  _Stark_  territory while the northerners who put their trust in my family are relying on the  _both_  of us to be half of what father was.”

_**i am not afraid anymore** _

A sort of breathless, whimpering sob forced itself passed her lips as she attempted to breathe properly over the painful lump burning through her throat after gutturally pushing her loathing words from it, loathing that was only for herself.

She couldn’t  _stand_  herself.

She shivered violently when warm hands covered her cool cheeks, the difference in temperature making her realize just how freezing she was. She stared up at Jon as his thumbs moved under her eyes to clear her tears, the wetness of them smearing across her skin.

“Father and Robb would both be proud of you, all of our brothers would. Our sister and your mother as well,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion in its firmness that sought to convince her of his words.

She reached up and pulled his hands away, grasping them unnecessarily hard as her actions responded to her emotions, wanting to hurt him for hurting her. Of course her grip wouldn’t hurt him. She didn’t  _really_  want to hurt him, not when she was only receiving what she ought to receive.

“So they’re still your family,” she said, her voice coming so quietly it was near less than a whisper. “I’m the only one who isn’t.”

A sound came from him, a word that stopped against his throat as he began to reply. She didn’t look at him as she was too scared to move, scared she may fall if she did. He let the silence blanket over them, and Sansa held her breath when it became one of the only sounds in the room, broken and pitiful. His breathing was the only sound then, heavier than hers but uneven as well.

“Why,” she said flatly between her teeth, wanting him to at the very least be man enough to announce her punishment.

He remained silent. Sansa felt strangled, slowly suffocating at the influx of negative emotion that crippled her. She was losing another loved one. How many loved ones had she lost? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps she was still paying her dues for when she had taken everything and everyone for granted, and her freshest loss was merely a part of the many cruel lessons she was forced to learn through heartbreak and suffering. She looked up at him, her chest rising and falling dramatically as her breathing became more erratic, quickly beginning to break down in front of him. She asked again, her voice sounding pitiful when she had intended on making it harsh.

Jon shook his head and looked away from her, letting out a heavy breath as a struggling expression covered his features. He took a few moments before looking back at her and shook his head again.

“For the same reason you’re jealous of what I’ve done with Daenerys.”

_**i want what you got in store** _

Her body jerked as his answer settled upon her ears, her brows coming together as she had difficulty making sense of them. Her voice was breathless as she spoke, caught off guard by both his confession and accusation. “What.. What do you mean?”

He snorted quietly and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head once more at it as he smiled slightly to himself in a sort of mocking way. “Honestly, Sansa. Don’t be difficult. You know what I meant.”

She looked down at the ground, frowning as she was both puzzled and embarrassed. “I’m not jealous of her, Jon. I don’t want to be a powerful queen. I want to take care of our -  _my_  people. I want to do the Stark name justice.. Now I have to do it alone.”

“That’s not what-” he started before grabbing her chin and shoving it upwards. “No, you are  _not_  alone. What are you not understanding? I went to her bed because she wanted me to. We need her dragons and her men. I have no intention of actually giving the North to her!”

“As if you would have that power anyway!” She snapped, jerking her chin away. “I had to defend you enough as it was! Do you believe the North would ever follow you beneath your aunt’s skirts?“

“Sansa,” he said levelly after taking a deep breath to calm his temper. “I’ve told you that I’m not being honest with Daenerys, meaning I am still the King.  _Your king._ Just something to keep in mind as your anger rises and your tongue continues to loosen. I will speak to her about how she treated you, and I will make it clear that she is not to do it again. Believe me, I’m more furious than you know that she had the nerve to disrespect you when, in her mind, we are her allies. You won’t be  _dropping down_  to anything for her, much less  _the ground._ You won’t  _ever_  kneel. I’ll make sure of that, and I will  _always_  make sure of it. You should knowthat! Have I not earned your trust? Do you not know me as I thought you did?”

“Yes, well. I suppose in order to be awarded respect I must whore myself to her,” Sansa quipped, conscious of how childish she was behaving in such a time. She didn’t care.

Jon laughed, his demeanor both seething and coldly smug,  _dangerous_. “Why are you so angry? I told you I was deceiving her, told you I would not allow you to be degraded again. What is it, Sansa? What’s left to be angry about?”

His voice was mocking and Sansa’s skin burned as he offended her with his tone. “You said-”

“You’re jealous that I fucked another woman.”

_**i’m ready to feed now** _

Sansa froze, her limbs locking in place as she stared at him. Her skin flushed with searing heat so quickly that it was as though someone had doused her with it, the flames of her mortification hot enough that at first she thought them a chill. She stared at him, her mind completely blanking on what to say in return, on how to deny such an accusation. Such a  _vulgar_  and  _arrogant_  accusation it was.

“So you can use big boy words, my  _lady_ , but I can’t?”

“It is not the selection of words,” she managed to reply, forcefully swallowing between her words as she tilted her chin up in the attempt to keep a firm hold on her pride, but her eyes remained downcast as they refused to follow as she willed them. “it’s the shameful accusation behind them. You dare slander my name in my own-”

“Shameful, aye, and yet the truth doesn’t change despite the fact.”

She fumed quietly in response, shaking her head back and forth in small movements of denial as she was floored, unprepared for such a situation, such discomfort as her stomach flipped around. She felt her face fall into somewhat of a sad expression, confusing her as she was angry and ought to  _look_  angry, and it almost felt as though her features had gathered into something of a pout. Her mouth was dry and she was struggling to swallow again. She realized she had yet to deny it, even to herself. 

“It isn’t slander if it’s the truth, Sansa. You’ve been educated enough to know.”

The thick air of tension between them shifted so dramatically that she could  _feel_  it. She looked up to Jon in bewilderment, confused at the drastic change of mood. She sucked in a quiet breath of cold air when she found his eyes trained on her mouth rather than her eyes, her lips parted and damp after wetting them to tend to the dryness of her mouth.

His eyes had darkened considerably, almost to the point of inhuman. Intimidated by the intense focus of his gaze, Sansa took a small step back, attempting to keep up in processing every breath and movement between them through the blur of her mind as her screaming thoughts whirled together and her head spun. His body only followed hers, his movements so smooth and without thought that she could only think of a predator stalking his prey, natural and graceful as it crept along the forest floor. 

His eyes slowly slid up to lock with hers, holding her captive where she stood simply with the command of his gaze. His eyes weren’t searching as they had been prior, but instead bore into her, still and sure. She vaguely felt the feather light warmth of his skin as he rested his hand so lightly against the side of her neck that she wasn’t sure he was touching her at all. His thumb ghosted along her jawline and she felt the same similar touch at her waist, neither one of them faltering from their joint stare.

_**get in your seat now** _

She should pull away. She should pull away immediately.

What had already happened, whatever _was_  happening, was wrong, and they were both acting out in the throes of their distress as they handled their dozens of problems. Yes, they weren’t thinking properly. She wasn’t capable of nearly  _any_  coherent thought at that moment. They were both so overwhelmed, and they didn’t know what they were doing. That had to be the truth. He was her  _brother_.

If she pulled away or told him to move back she knew he would comply. Despite the way he was looking at her in a way that had her body vibrate in its intense shiver as the frost that formed from her anticipation traveled down her spine, she still trusted him in that. She did not fear him.

Instead, something inside her, something twisted and sinister that she was sure sought her end, reminded her that he  _wasn’t_  her brother. Told her to do it again. Lick her lips again,  _bite_  them. That’s what he wants, that’s what they both wanted. Was she planning to be a scared little girl forever, unable to handle another wolf in her own den? Coward.

Do it.

Sansa hadn’t had a moment to be shocked with her bold actions as she followed the orders of the impulsive side of her head, hadn’t had a moment to do much of anything or even close her lips back together before they were covered by his.

_**and touch me like you never** _

His kiss was not at all gentle or sweet as she would have expected a kiss from Jon to be. He was devouring her, and she was positive of his parentage then, as she felt as though her whole body had been lit on fire. The hand that had only been lightly brushing over her skin was now closed around her throat, still gentle and without pressure as he seemed to cradle it in his hold, but still telling in its possessiveness all the same, primal and commanding,  _claiming_. The fingers at her hip were not nearly as gentle as they dug into her flesh, holding her in place as he closed any space between them. His pas of his thumb brushed over the very front of her throat. A thrill went through her and her pulse jerked at his feather light touch over such a delicate area. He didn’t have to speak for her to understand what was going through his head, what he intended her to have through own in the telling way he touched her. Mine.

His.

_**and push me like you never** _

It took her a few moments to recover, but when she did she found herself replying to his hungry, burning kiss. Her answering kiss was furious and just as possessive as his, proving Jon completely correct.

She had been jealous, jealous of the woman that had touched what was hers.

Sansa trembled when she felt his growl pour down her throat as he breathed it into her, feeling it much better than hearing it. She half expected there to be tears streaming down her face at the relentless passion and scalding desire that stabbed into her, screamed at her to be sated. She arched her body against his, pressing her hips where they ached to be. Her moan, wanton and needy, lightly registered to her ears as she fully caught up to the moment of the kiss, the heat of his lips and the taste of his silken tongue as it dragged and slipped, tasting her as she tasted him. A delicious sound spilled out of him as their bodies rubbed together and abruptly she was being pushed back towards the wall. She braced herself to hit it, unconcerned of any bruises that would later bloom when she did. Instead, she felt Jon falter for half of a moment, a forfeiting huff spilling between them as he maneuvered the two of them so his back slammed against the wall instead, sparing her the fate of being crushed against it as she was sure she was have been. 

Just as she was sure that had been what Jon  _wanted_ to happen. The dark, punishing part of him, his irritated breath of a complaint only proving so. 

_**and touch me like you never** _

Unable to touch him where her hands desperately wanted to, she moved them to wind behind his neck. Instead her wrists were caught and she was spun so her back was to him and he pulled her flush against the front of him. She let out a small and desperate sound in her loss, her protesting words dying in her throat as his mouth found the exact spot where they had been forming after he had thread his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back for full access. She was so vulnerable, so bare to him as his kisses and the nips of his teeth claimed the length of her neck.

He could tear her throat out with his teeth if he liked and she would be helpless to stop him. She wasn’t quite sure if she would want to stop him.

_**‘cause i am not afraid, i am not afraid anymore** _

Her eyelids fluttered as she let her weight fall fully in his arms as he held her back against him, pressing herself into him as firmly as she could manage. She felt heavy with lust, drunk with it as the skin of her neck was harassed with bruising bites and marking kisses as he sucked at her between each soft kiss.

_**i am not ashamed anymore** _

What were they doing, what were they doing,  _what were they doing_.

The voice in the back of her head rambled on, nagging at her as it begged her to listen. No, she didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to pull away from his strong arms and savage attentions. She didn’t care about propriety. She wasn’t his sister.  _She wasn’t his sister._  He had said it himself, and a lady was meant to listen to her king.

If she had felt drunk before, she was most certainly near passing out with intoxication when his free hand dragged itself down the front of her body, her ribs, her stomach, her thigh. Her body arched where his hand moved, following it eagerly. Shamelessly she dug her backside against him, her hips rolling with it.

_**i want something so impure** _

Guiding her head to rest back against his shoulder, he released her hair from his fist to trail his hand down the side of her neck. His touch was gentle again as he traced her collarbone and she became aware of how loud her uneven breaths were. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to regain control of herself as his pause in his relentless mauling of her made her the slightest bit more capable of coherent thought. She was angry with him, she needed to remember that, and she had already given him more satisfaction than he deserved in the way she had nearly  _melted_  and fell pliant so pathetically the exact moment he had advanced on her. The last thing she wanted to do was further the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth in that small smirk that she was more than sure was there. She tried to ignore the balmy warmth he bathed her in and the distracting way his fingers danced over her skin. She couldn’t allow him to seduce her based solely on their misplaced expression of pent feelings.

_**you better impress now** _

His hand moved down the frame of her body and down her arm, threading his fingers through hers. He returned the other to her hip, but instead of imprisoning her in his grip once more he only lightly rested it there. The impatient and starving attentions to her neck turned to soft presses of his mouth that made their way down and over her shoulder. She shuddered, going weak and responsive once more at his sweeter attentions. He dizzied her with his embrace and touch as though he loved her, as though he had sensed her gaining the strength to put an end to their thoughtless display and switched to the cruel tactic of bringing her heart to attention, squeezing it in his hand and holding it over her head while victoriously taunting her with it.

“Sansa.”

His voice was light, careful as though he were approaching a wounded and hostile animal. She didn’t respond to him. Her mouth had opened on a reply but she had closed it again, suddenly feeling very shy and uncertain in what she was doing, if she was pleasing to him. She had no reason to think on such things, he had been the one to act first. He had been the one to bring his  _other woman_  to throw her in her face first.

“Are you finished pretending as though you aren’t angry due to jealousy?”

Bastard. Arrogant, disrespectful, dishonorable -

“So you aren’t finished I see.”

“We should stop, Jon,” she managed, though her body remained still. “We aren’t acting as we would if the threat of death wasn’t looming over our thoughts. We are acting out of stress and being overwhelmed. We aren’t in the right-” Jon’s snarl cut her off, his body tensing as he was viciously offended at her words.

“You will stand there and claim such blatant lies? You can’t have actually made yourself  _believe_  that. Do you  _pretend_  that you haven’t wanted me from the second we found each other again? I don’t pretend. I hated myself for it, for desiring my sister, but still I wouldn’t have been able to lie to myself as you have. It must be nice. But no, Sansa. I’ve seen how you’ve wanted me, how your eyes flickered and practically glazed over when we got into it that night before the battle, how out of breath you were. Apparently making you angry works to my advantage.”

“J-Jon, I don’t know what you saw, but I.. Yes. I don’t know what you saw. This is.. entirely improper.”

“Improper?” He demanded in slight disbelief before he scoffed out a short laugh. “Sweet, Sansa, will you never change from your innocent, simplified outlook on how humans are meant to behave that you’ve had since you were a little girl? Please don’t. It’s surprisingly endearing the same as it is aggravating.”

“I am a highborn lady,” she responded through her teeth, narrowing her eyes at the room before her in defiance. “Of course I-”

“And I am the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, as well as the King in the North. Your king. I am a highborn just as you, except I am superior in status, come to find out. Does that sting a bit? Be honest now, you can’t be capable of lying much more tonight, I’m sure of it.” His tone was teasing, lilted with smug amusement and he brushed her hair over her shoulder, kissing behind her ear.

“You’ve had a name for all of five seconds and already your head is beginning to take up the whole room with how it further swells!”

“I’d say I deserve it, no? At least a bit of taunting. I can degrade you just a little, can’t I?”

“I thought you didn’t care about that.” Her voice was quiet now, losing any edge to it as she suddenly felt cold at his words, both with guilt and worry that he would actually award her the same treatment she had served him along with his mother. Perhaps this whole act was a punishment, a plot to humiliate and dishonor her. Targaryens were known for their especially cruel punishments.

“I don’t care about that,” he told her firmly, drawing the hand he was still holding up to kiss it before wrapping both arms around the front of her, holding her closer. She felt his forehead press against the the side of her hair after kissing her there as well. “Not anymore, and you know that. You  _should_ know that. And I’d never.. never treat you or look at you as any less than I always have, and I’ve always seen you as the unachievable and unflawed, brat of a princess you’ve been since the day you could speak. I can assure you, I don’t care of the power that comes with this name. I don’t want it or any part of it. I don’t want.. I don’t want to accept the lies, not when they’re from him. The only good that has come from this is being able to touch you without utterly loathing myself.”

Sansa relaxed into his earnest embrace, closing her eyes when she couldn’t think of what to say to him as she hurt for him all while trying to hold back her adrenaline at his words regarding her.

“And I won’t have you lying to me as well. You’ve rejected me enough for a lifetime, so either do it honestly so I’ll only feel it once and never touch you again, or you’ll stop lying to the both of us. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you anymore, Sansa.” He dragged the fabric of her dress over her shoulder, exposing it completely, his mouth becoming more insistent again. “Tell me, and I won’t. I’ll stop if you truly feel as though you don’t want me, if you truly feel as though you don’t love me in the same way I love you.”

_**watching my dress now fall to the floor** _

His verbal claim of loving her struck something in her core as soon as it hit her ears and every bit of hesitation she may have had shattered into unidentifiable pieces. She turned in his arms, the need of her horrified at his words of never touching her again. She kissed him in her silent decline, showing him she had no intention of making such false claims of lies that she had constructed to ease her torment. Jon never needed such lies because he was perfectly capable of facing his problems rather than turning away from them. He wasn’t a coward as she was, he was never a coward.    

An odd, guttural sound of dismay and offense sounded in her throat in question when his hold found its way back into her hair, pulling her face away from his. She stared at him, searching his eyes accusingly as vexation for his denial settled over her. His eyebrow raised slightly, watching her with amused defiance. She blinked and pushed out an irritated breath, looking away from him. She had lost her nerve again when her shyness had returned to sweep it away under his haughty gaze. She hadn’t faced his eyes since he had kissed her the first time.

“ _Now_  are you finished?”  
  


“ _What_?!”

Her focus had snapped back to his, both appalled and infuriated he would play such a game with her.

_**crawling underneath my skin** _

“I want to hear you tell me I was right, and yes. You have to. It doesn’t happen often with you, I have to cherish it.” 

Halfway through his reply he had tugged her against him again, his face in her neck as he murmured the words against her, moving his hand from her hair and down her spine. She shivered hard at both the stroke of her spine and his breath that fanned over the shell of her ear, feeling his smile against the skin there when her teeth slightly chattered in response. He held her even tighter against him and curled his fingers into the fabric of her dress at the small of her back, returning to her ear to graze his teeth over it. “I want to hear you say you want me as well. That you  _have_  wanted me.”

“You’re antagonizing me.”  

He hummed in unapologetic agreement at the tormented words she had growled, sounding more than pleased with his actions of intentionally riling her up. 

“Neither of us will get what we want until I hear the words roll off your pretty little tongue,” he told her softly, drawing her skirts up until he found the hem. He slipped his hand underneath them to slide up her thigh, using the hold he took of it to yank her hips closer against his. “That I swear to you by whichever gods please you.”

_**sweet talk with a hint of sin** _

The way his hold groped the back of her thigh had distracted her away from noticing him pull her dress further from her neckline to drop his attentions down to the swell of one of the breasts he had uncovered. 

She had always been poor at keeping hold of her pride, hadn’t she?

_**begging you to take me** _

“I-I’m finished, Jon. Pretending. You were right. I’m jealous. I’m sick with it. I’ve wanted you for so long.. I want you now. Let me have what I want.”  

“You always  _did_  have a talent for music, didn’t you?” He mused in a slight purr, nipping at her ear. 

_**devil underneath your grin** _

Sansa’s response to his cockiness was cut short as she gasped and wildly grasped at his back when he hoisted her up by the thigh he had been gripping to carry her to her bed, climbing over her as he gingerly lowered her down onto the furs. She held his gaze as he shadowed over her, laying her head back just as his face moved above hers while he braced his hands on either side of her. She ran her hands up his thick undercoat, relieved he wasn’t wearing his gambeson, nor was he wearing his cloak for that matter. He smelt of the soap she had given him from her own supply she had made herself, far too particular with her bathing habits to attempt to use any of the “soap” that could be found when they had reclaimed Winterfell. She had always preferred her own anyway. He must of had a bath soon after he had arrived, which may have been why she had been confronted without him present.

Good. She hoped he had scrubbed his skin raw of the silver whore.

His face had fallen into that vulnerable expression of open and honest emotion she had come to recognize, his eyebrows slightly knitted together and slanting upwards in the center.

Blatant and undisguised emotion of her own brutally smacked into her. The love for him that she had forced herself blind to uncovered itself entirely, stealing her breath from her as her lies were torn away. She let her eyes fall closed for a moment, only noticing the tears that had formed when she felt them slide down the sides of her face as took in her strong feelings of relief coupled with the intense ache of being overwhelmed. 

His lips skimmed over the wet path her tears had made, more of his weight comfortably settling on top of her as he shifted to console her. She opened her eyes again to meet his alarmed ones and responded with a small smile, mirroring his sincere expression. She reached up to lightly stroke his cheek as delicately as she would stroke a newborn child’s as if he were fragile, though the stubble of his beard reminded her that he was anything but.

“I love you, Jon.”

There was a long and frozen pause as he silently stared at her before she was being consumed once more. His mouth just as intense and dominant, yet languid with added meaning. Giddiness took over her senses, her body buzzing with it as she felt the most dangerous feeling blooming inside of her, a feeling that had no business lingering about after all of the lessons she had been forced to learn. Hope.

She knew better.

Her hands ran up his bare skin the moment he was back over her after removing the coat, unable to help herself from lightly dragging her nails down the base of his neck and down the well defined panels of his chest as she absorbed just  _how_  desirable he was, her claws digging into him when her eyes flicked up to his. The lust in his eyes pierced her in such a way that she didn’t know if she had ever felt such a thirst. Just with his eyes he had made her feel so hungry, just with the emotion that colored them. How could only a look of a man’s face do so much to her? No, not  _a_  man’s face, but  _her_  man’s face. Hers.

She turned her face away before he could refasten his own to it and she could swear she  _heard_  his eyes dangerously narrow. When she looked back up again she found slits of eyes staring back at her, proving herself correct.

_**sweet thing, but she play to win** _

She shifted her legs slightly as his animalistic stare penetrated her deep within her belly, her lust clawing at her, bruising and demanding. Her eyes widened ever so slightly when the movement made her realize the slickness that had formed between her thighs, much slicker than any sort of shameful fantasy she had ever cooked up had made her.

“You may have been right, I am jealous, but I will not be made jealous again. You are mine.” She swallowed the bitterness of her envy that was crawling up her throat as she felt her eyes flash, suddenly aching with pain at the thought of him touching anyone else. “Touch her again and I swear by any gods that please  _you_  that you will never even so much as have me take your arm ever again.” Her eyes burned as she seethed the words to him, her lip curling the smallest amount.

“I only wish to touch  _you_ , Sansa. I want no one else. I’ve wanted you, and I’ve wanted you for far longer than what is honorable. Now I have you, and I don’t intend on letting you go, not without one hell of a bloody fight.”

He took much too long to undress the both of them and her legs rubbed together impatiently in her arousal. She found herself lightly panting, _panting_  of all wanton things. Her face flushed even more so when she realized how her back had arched, but he was on top of her before she could adjust herself into a more modest position, her shift the only thing remaining between them.

“Panting like a bitch in heat, how fitting.”

Perhaps she would have responded with contempt at his crude words should he not have purred them in such a dark, rich tone right into her ear as his hand crept to the top of her thigh, kneading the flesh of it. Instead she let out a helpless whimper as though she feared him as a doe feared a wolf. The closer his hand became to the wet, throbbing core of her, the more desperately her hips would raise. He wouldn’t touch her where she needed him to touch. He meant to torture her, to send her into a frenzy that would have her cry and beg for him, beg for the mercy of her king, her mate.

Gods, he was a bastard.

She ducked her head down to kiss along the underside of his jaw, another throb of euphoria coursing throughout her body and adding weight to the heavy blanket of the lustful haze that held her down in a warm prison. She wound her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck to hold more firmly against her attentions, hoping to persuade him.  _Persuade_ , not seduce. She was a lady after all. Not that she knew how to seduce anyone, let alone Jon who was not a man without self control, nor was he a boy who trembled and drooled at the sight of a woman in a tight dress.

Her lips had caressed the pulse of his throat when she felt the light tremor roll through his body and skim over hers as he pressed himself against her as she ran her tongue over the spot.

_**heaven gonna hate me** _

She bit down, marking him as she made sure she would leave a bruise. Her nails clawed against the skin of his neck and she raked them down his strong back, completely overcome with instinctive possessiveness, egging him on as she caught his small display of vulnerability. She sucked at the abused spot before moving on to litter more across the length of his throat. She took in a startled breath, disturbed from her feasting when he nearly ripped her shift from her body, tearing it over and off of her head. Her arms had raised to accommodate his intentions when one of his hands caught both of her wrists before she could lower them again, pushing them back down into the bed in a swift and commanding motion. She stared at him with wide eyes and hot cheeks, the fierce feeling of possession having fled when he had won back the lead in their power struggle. Not that she had wanted the lead, she had properly  _persuaded_  him much easier than she anticipated, but it did not change the intensity of the foreign feelings of carnal greed that she was becoming delirious with.

Her ribs lifted higher in her labored breaths as she watched him scan his eyes down and up the length of her naked body, shameless as he examined what was his, his bitch he could do whatever he wanted with. His gaze slowly lifted to connect with hers, his eyes appearing black as they pierced her with such an intense primal desire that a breathy moan escaped her lips, her hips tipping up on their own accord while her legs rubbed together in search of. She gasped and flinched reflexively at the strong and new sensation that sped up through her cunt as his finger slid into her. His hand only followed, ignoring her slight retreat, and her head tilted back and pressed into the bed as his thumb began to circle that incredibly sensitive spot she had never dared go near, her back arching off of the bed.

_Please, please, please.._

Her head chanted her silent prayer to her god above her for blessing, begging to her king above her for mercy. She didn’t know which title he would answer to, but it seemed as though he had no intention of granting either. Consistent moans spilled from her lips as he slowly moved his fingers in and out of her, curling them in the most maddening of ways while he watched her writhe beneath him at his hand, leaving her whimpering for more as he coaxed her deeper into surrender. What would her mother have said? 

Ah, Jon must be elated to finally have such a revenge over her.

_**and touch me like you never** _

His eyes flickered and paused momentarily more than once as they passed her scars, silently running his fingers over them with his other hand while otherwise not reacting.

Her own fingers raked through her hair as she struggled with what to do with herself as his fingers worked agonizingly slow. Her eyes fluttered open before closing again when he inched her thigh further away from the other. She choked on alarm when his thumb was replaced with his mouth, the swirling motion performed instead with his tongue. Her fingers fisted painfully tight into her hair, gathering a bit of the furs in her hold as her head was thrown back even more when his fingers sped up and his wicked, satin tongue changed its course of pattern. Her face was burning in mortification at the forbidden act, even more so at the way her hips pushed up against his face while her body sought as much of him as it could find, careless of whether or not that perhaps she didn’t want to seem a complete wanton animal. Her need for air only grew and the muffled sounds she had been attempting to control became louder as he treated her as a meal, and she had a faint worry that they would be heard.

She was close, so close to the release he was guiding her towards, the build of pressure under her belly threatening to spill over and break its hold. Her worry of anyone hearing quickly died as her incoherent sounds filled the room and rang in her own ears. A broken cry of protest and questioning offense interrupted her mewling and her hand found his hair in attempt to hold him in place when he shifted his face and slipped his fingers away right as she was at the brink of falling. She fell back and away from the ledge she had been about to dive from as she fell into an incredible aching need, a need so much more devastating than she had felt before he had had his face between the heat of his legs. She twisted her body slightly to finally look down at him, watching him place an open mouthed kiss to the side of her inner thigh before his eyes met hers, smug and challenging, proving still to be antagonizing her,  _torturing_  her with her own desires.

Bastard.

More of a bastard than he had ever acted when he was actually thought to be. She looked away from him indignantly and made a move to close her legs. She scowled when she found herself incapable due to Jon’s hand that had an iron grip on her thigh. His tongue ran a flat lick up her swollen cunt before his languid kisses were roving up her body, a quiet and delighted chuckle leaving him at the way she had responded to the action. She wanted to  _strangle_  him. She especially wanted to strangle him for the fact that she wanted to stroke and adore him so much more than she wanted to strangle him.

_**and push me like you never** _

“Listen to me carefully,” he murmured between kisses against the skin of her ribs as he moved to her breast. “I will marry you.” Her breath stopped in her throat and he brushed his nose over her nipple before moving to the tender spot below her collarbone. “We will marry and you’ll never be sold off again, you will never be pushed to respect a man who does not respect you again, and you will never have to share your life with a man who does not love you again. Winterfell will remain yours, our children will be Starks.” He took her hips and roughly yanked her down so his face was hovered over hers, taking hers in his hands. “And you will be my queen, as I am no king without you, and no other woman could possibly fill your shoes. I am nothing without you, Sansa. You are who I live for, and that will remain true until I’m no longer living.” His lips were sweetly earnest and surrendering on hers when they met as though he meant to prove her importance according to his own words through them. To prove that not only did he want her, but he  _needed_  her.

“Please.”

His breath lightly swept over her lips as he spoke his plea against them, a contrast to the way he had only just  _told_  her what would become of her future rather than asking. It didn’t matter the words. Sansa knew she would always have a choice with him, knew she would always be  _free_  with him. In that moment she was certain they would survive the war and dangers to come. She could feel it, could see their future family together. They had to get there. 

Her arms wound around his shoulders and brushed her lips against his as they hovered above hers, applying no pressure as she caressed them together. 

“I  _was_  always determined to marry my hero,” she murmured back before reaching up to kiss his nose.

The sweetness of the small, pure action was lost when the shift of her body brought her thigh to brush against his cock, effectively dropping them back into deprived lust. She ignored the blush that seemed to have become a permanent feature on her face and shifted again to feel him once more, curious and filled with an almost simpering sort of need that reminded her of a babe in need of milk. She looked at him with a doe-eyed gaze, communicating her desires that nearly caused her pain. She imagined that had she not been so spitefully teased she would be able to control herself a bit more. Her eyes flicked to his parted lips at the thought, her lids drooping as her hips unconsciously rolled as she stared at them. 

She hummed a sigh and closed her eyes as she lightly ran her hands up his chest, caressing his skin with soft fingers and tracing movements that went down his arms and felt the power of them flex under her hands. Power that could protect her,  _had_  protected her. Power that would kill any man that may attempt to harm her. How could she have ever found pretty men with pretty yellow hair and pretty  _soft_  hands at all appealing? They were nothing.

Every man was nothing when compared to Jon.

When her fingers grazed down to his naval the self control he had stubbornly holding onto broke. His hand wrapped around the underside of her knee as he settled himself more properly between her thighs. 

“Don’t do that again,” she nearly huffed in a small voice as she poorly bit back her croon when the tip of him probed and parted her cunt.

He stilled, looking at her with serious and questioning eyes as he prepared to move off of her should she confirm the thought.

“Don’t  _stop_  again. Like before. That.. hurt. No more playing. You’ve had your fun.”

His body relaxed against hers and an amused, deviant look colored his face as he pushed his hips against hers, grinding them down to bring her a fleeting jolt of pleasure.

“It didn’t  _hurt_. It was just maddening. And incredibly satisfactory seeing you twist about when i denied you. You’ve always been a bit dramatic, haven’t you? Now, if you weren’t so spoiled..” He tsked, shaking his head in disapproval, urging her leg up to bend at the knee. “On the subject of spoiled, as a  _respectable highborn lady_ , are you not meant to use pleasantries and polite words when you want something from someone? Not  _command_  them? Especially when you want something from a king, no less. I do suppose I didn’t get the same ‘how to walk with a book balanced on your head’ classes as you, but-”

“Jon, please,” she nearly sobbed as he continued to lightly rock himself against her, denying her true satisfaction while relentlessly teasing her with infuriating arrogance. “ _Please_. I need you.”

The air she sucked into her chest stuttered its way down her throat when he promptly pushed inside of her with a sure and deep stroke, filling her until she enveloped him entirely. Her eyelids flickered before resting halfway closed as she relaxed into the sensation.  _This_  was what it was meant to be,  _this_  was what it was meant to feel. She knew he wouldn’t have hurt her, but still she couldn’t help the fear and apprehension that had slightly tensed her shoulders, and had it been any other man she would have never trusted him the way she was trusting Jon.

She shifted her raised leg, hitching it higher and curving it towards his body, her whimper of a moan captured and swallowed by his mouth when the movement only drew him in deeper, his thrusts losing a considerable amount of their patient care in result. She tried to quiet herself but everything was melting away from her, including her decency. She couldn’t latch onto thoughts anymore, couldn’t keep up to her body’s will as it so naturally responded to his, couldn’t locate the bed beneath her. She could only feel him and what he was doing to her.

_**and touch me like you never** _

Her hands wandered madly over his body as their lovemaking went on, pulling and urging him on, her fingers winding into his hair to secure him as she kissed every bit of him she could find between her labored and gasping breaths. The lull of the crackling fire pulled her further down into the intoxicating fog in which she was drowning in, losing herself in. The familiar sounds mixing with the unfamiliar, her moans and soft cries that were transitioning to desperate sobs and loud whimpers that were broken from stolen breath. His sounds were the true melody as his pleasured groans and ragged breaths fanned across her skin whenever his lips paused from tending to her to catch his breath. He murmured praises to her, breathed her name. He hissed out obscenities as she wrapped legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him when he left all little efforts at sensual lovemaking behind and adjusted above her to drive himself into her harder, vicious and merciless as his primal nature ruled him just as her own ruled her. She noticed the explicit and depraved noises their bodies made then, the sounds of their skin smacking together, the wet sounds of her weeping cunt as it was savagely impaled echoing in her ears. The amount of shame she was meant to be feeling should have already crushed her, but instead she felt none of it and was only halfway conscious of the fact she was meant to. What had become of her?

So many things were  _meant to be_  that were not, what was another?

_**‘cause i am not afraid, i am not afraid anymore** _

There was a broken and guttural weep that formed around his name that fell from her lips as she completely shattered. Her body shuddered as she convulsed around him, waves of pleasure crashing and rolling through her as she came down from her high. She tightened her legs around his waist when his body stilled and lightly trembled, his strangled groan settling over her for her to relish in as her prize for being satisfactory. He didn’t allow himself to completely collapse on top of her as she could tell he wanted. Instead he sank down and dipped his face next to her neck as he worked to even his breaths and regain composure, peppering kisses against her fevered skin in reverence. Her sated body hummed beneath his as a smile played at her lips, feeling almost childlike in the loving, safe feeling of being held and worshipped by a man. 

Slowly, he lifted himself off of her to lay beside her, drawing her with him and onto his chest as he rolled onto his back. She had never felt heavier and her body seemed to sink down and into his. She almost assumed herself to melt through both him and the bed to puddle up on the floor. That would be alright. She had received her bliss and would accept any fate that may come her way. She nuzzled her nose into the hot crook of his neck, her skin cooling significantly and leaving her to shiver as the warmth from their coupling dwindled. She mumbled out her incoherent approval when the furs were draped over the both of them. She held onto the dream of the moment for dear life, embedding it into her memory for her to mourn later on.

They were silent for a long time before sense crept back up to sweep away the mist of pleasure that blinded her careful judgement. They had acted purely at the demand of their emotions and to sate the appetites of their bodies needs. They were facing threats of every sort, the Targaryen conquerer was in her home and would surely be a  _bit_  put out at the idea that her lover had bed another nearly the moment he had stepped back on land, the knowledge of their familial ties unlikely to deter her considering the family, and finally there were the alleged  _dragons_  to consider that Sansa had refused to see after such horrible first impressions of their  _mother_.

_Dragons._

Dragons that followed the orders of a mad queen whom Sansa had stolen from just after refusing to acknowledge her as her queen. Foolish, foolish on both counts, though she had more excuse for holding to her family’s pride. She certainly could have kept her legs closed to her former _brother_  until  _after_  they survived the war. _If_  they were to survive the war.

But that was it, wasn’t it? They may not survive. Actually, there was a terrifyingly large chance that they would not. A large chance that  _she_  wouldn’t at least. If it were to be her last opportunity to have something  _real_ , to experience  _real_  intimacy, to share a bed with a man out of _real_ love, then she supposed she could not entirely think herself a fool for giving in. 

No, only selfish, for she was not the only one at risk should the Targaryen seek blood for the man that had left her, that had  _tricked_  her. Sansa had certainly made it hard to miss seeing as his skin was openly covered in evidence of her impulsive need to claim him. She would be responsible for all who may perish at the fit of the silver woman. She adjusted against Jon so her cheek rested near the base of his neck, allowing her anxieties to collect in her stomach until she couldn’t bear to be alone with them any longer.

“Will we burn for this?”

Her soft murmur broke through the peace of the room, disturbing the unworried contentment that had draped around them.

“Ah, I had forgotten you deemed me a liar when I gave you the answer to that question before.” 

Sansa sighed wearily, exasperated but still not surprised at his inappropriately difficult to interpret response. “What.”

“I promised to protect you, Sansa, whether you are confident in my ability to follow through or not. I  _will_  keep my word.”

_**no no no** _


End file.
